


leave all of your indecisions with you at home

by juggyjones



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mentioned Clarke Griffin/Niylah, Minor Jasper Jordan/Maya Vie, Minor John Murphy/Emori, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Modern Era, minor Raven Reyes/Zeke Shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggyjones/pseuds/juggyjones
Summary: At Raven's birthday party, Bellamy ends up chatting with Clarke Griffin, while both of them are hiding their smoking habits at the balcony. And she's undeniably the girl of his young bad boy's dreams.





	leave all of your indecisions with you at home

**Author's Note:**

> i saw an au gifset on tumblr with clarke and bellamy chatting while smoking and i just had to write this.

At Raven’s twenty-fourth birthday party, Bellamy doesn’t really know what to do. He pretty much barely knows her, and everybody knows he’s here because he doesn’t drink that much and he’ll give a bunch of people a ride home.

Octavia dragged him here. At least he got to bring Miller along, but not long into the party, he ended up flirting with one of Octavia’s friends—Monty? Bellamy’s never sure—and now, Bellamy’s alone.

And doesn’t know what to do.

Sitting on the couch gives him a good overview of what’s happening where, so he does it, sipping from the one beer he’s allowed to have tonight.

It’s a house party, but Raven’s roommates are rich so the entire house is just _rich._ It’s not that there are many decorations, really, but Bellamy feels the quality of the fake leather he’s sitting on. He can see that everything has value, even if it’s relatively minimalistically decorated – it’s very spacious, breathable, and Bellamy feels kind of lost when he’s in such spaces.

He sees the birthday girl, serving someone from the minibar her and her roommates have come up with. She’s smiling and probably flirting with a guy dressed up a lot nicer than Bellamy is—he didn’t know it was _that_ big of a party when, in retrospect, he really should’ve known—and he kind of wishes he could talk to her, at least.

O is dancing with her boyfriend on the makeshift dance floor, with her friends Jasper and Maia and a bunch of people Bellamy doesn’t recognize. There’s a girl with slick, black hair dancing with a pretty blonde, and a tattooed girl dancing with someone who looks a lot like one his coworker—

Wait. That _is_ Murphy.

Bellamy waits until the song is over and he watches Murphy walk to the other side of the room alone, probably going to get drinks. Bellamy catches up.

“Hey, Murphy,” he says. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Murphy scoffs, but Bellamy’s had a long time to learn it bears on ill intent. “My girlfriend Emori is practically besties with the party girl. Who am I to say no to a party?”

Watching him get two beers out of the minifridge, Bellamy has to agree.

The two of them lean against the bar, looking at the entirety of the room. Even if he’s dressed appropriately for a party, Bellamy feels like he doesn’t feet in, while Murphy looks like he’s just finished working out and looks exactly like the type of person you’d expect to see at this party.

Maybe Bellamy’s just getting old. He’s never been into parties, anyway.

“And what about you, babysitting? I saw Octavia on the dance floor.”

“Yeah. Also driving a bunch of people home.”

“Huh. So you really are a dad.”

“Shut up.”

Murphy raises beer into a toast, and Bellamy happily obliges. “Gotta get back to my lady, if you’ll excuse me.”

As far as frienemies go, Murphy’s a good one to have.

He walks around for a little bit, and he feels himself growing stressed. He doesn’t do well in spaces that make his life feel miserable, he doesn’t well with a bunch of people, and he doesn’t do well _especially_ with a bunch of unfamiliar people.

This is usually the point where he’s drunk enough to forget about all that. But he promised Octavia.

He sees Raven, he talks to her for a bit, but they barely know each other since she’s Octavia’s friend, not his. Nearly everybody here is about four years younger than him, but it feels like there has to be a decade between them.

Bellamy really is getting old.

About two months ago, he made a promise he wouldn’t smoke anymore. He’s been smoking since he was sixteen and his mom got sick, and it’s a decade old habit that’s just making his life easier.

He does well with nicotine patches, though, but sometimes it’s the raw smoke in his lungs that does the trick, not the nicotine.

But Bellamy doesn’t vape. It’s _dumb._

Now, he’d like to say he’s quit entirely, but he still carries a pack with him out of habit. Right now, his hands are in his pockets, one fiddling with his favourite crimson lighter and another with Malboro Reds.

Raven has a balcony, and it’s winter, so no one should be spending their time there.

He makes up his mind fairly quickly, just checks O’s not seeing him sneak out.

And lucky for him, because Bellamy’s a social smoker, he’s not alone. The blonde from before is leaning against the fence, looking at downtown Washington, DC, with a lit cigarette between her index and middle finger and smoke running smoothly over her lips.

“Hi,” Bellamy says, and closes the glass door behind him.

The city sounds different from up here than he’s used to. He can see the cars, but they are rare and he knows this is a rich neighbourhood, and it feels weird to be here.

Like this kind of view isn’t meant for people like him.

The fact that his heart immediately startes beating slower when the loud music of the party is muffled doesn’t help. The city feels a little dead, and old, and ancient, and Bellamy can kind of relate.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asks the girl. She has a deep, smoker voice, the kind Bellamy’s always had a thing for.

He lights his cigarette. When he breathes in, knowing it’s his first smoke in two months, it feels freeing. Awful and defiant, but freeing from the madness he’s had to endure.

“I don’t like parties.”

The girl gives him a dry laugh, one that he can also relate to. “Me either. It’s Raven’s, though, and I’m a good roommate who loves her and wants her to have the best fucking time of her life.”

“Roommate. So you’re…” He tries, desperately, to remember the names of Raven’s two roommates, but he can’t. Maybe O never told him.

“Clarke.” She extends him her hand and he takes it. Before he can introduce himself, she says, “You’re Octavia’s brother, right? Bellamy?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

God, he missed smoking.

“You kind of look similar. Also, I knew Raven said she had a hot smoker brother a couple of years older, a teacher, and you look just the type.”

She not only knows about him, but she’s hitting on him.

He takes her in. She’s wearing a black leather jacket that looks like she’s meddled with it, and tight leather pants that make the curve of her ass really stand out, and Bellamy thinks her breasts must be in the same level, even if he can’t see them from this angle. She’s sporting a short blonde bob with a red streak in it, full lips and a pale face that looks as dangerous as riding a motorcycle without a helmet on.

Suddenly, Bellamy is sixteen again and picking up girls on his motorcycle, wearing all leather with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, before he makes out with his passenger against a random tree in the woods.

Has Bellamy hit jackpot or something?

“Thanks,” he says. “I never heard she had a hot roommate, I must admit.”

Clarke laughs for real this time, and the cheery sound of it takes him aback. “All of the people who live in here are hot, objectively. Raven, me, and Lexa.”

“And rich,” he says.

“And rich.” She flicks the butt of her cigarette over the fence and looks at him. “Can I get one?”

He hands her a cigarette and his lighter, and she closes her eyes when she inhales the smoke for the first time. She hands his things back to him and he does the same.

“I told Raven I quit, so we’re not allowed to have cigarettes in the apartment.”

“I told Octavia the same, two months ago.”

“Did you? Quit?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, because he knows she’ll get it. “Until I had to spend an hour with a bunch of random people at a party.”

“You really don’t do parties, do you?”

“Never did,” he says, and it’s true. He might’ve had a motorcycle and picked up girls at parties, but he never actually stayed there. He’s charming one-on-one. Anything else is too much. “What’s your story?”

“Saw my ex. She’s a friend of Octavia’s.”

“Niylah?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

There’s silence for a while, while thye each finish their cigarette and Bellamy offers her the pack before she asks. They both go for the third, and he realizes he’s enjoying her company a lot more than he’d expect.

“Sex.”

He looks at her for a long second. “What?”

“Sex can help with stress. You don’t have to smoke.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s too much work. You buy cigarettes and that’s it, you have them. With girls it’s… they just need too much.”

“You haven’t gotten laid in a long time, have you? How?”

“Beats me,” he says, jokingly.

But she isn’t smiling. “No, I’m serious. You’re hot and smart and seem like a really nice person, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Guess you have to be into guys to not be into me,” he tries to joke. Obviously, her calling him hot is just objectively – which he doesn’t agree with, but sure.

This time, she smiles and really looks at him and for a moment he enjoys it, but then realizes it’s more of a laughing smile. “I’m into girls _and_ boys.”

“Cool. Then, by your own logic, why’d you say you don’t want to sleep with me?”

“Well,” Clarke says, “who said I don’t? But don’t get your panties in a twist – you’re buying me dinner, first.”

She’s smirking, now, because she knows exactly how she’s gotten his panties in a twist. And she’s half turned in his direction, and Bellamy’s been enjoying the banter and her personality and the sight of her that honestly, taking her to dinner does seem like a bother when all he wants to do is take up on her offer.

And she’s too hot.

_Damn._

He doesn’t even care about shaking off his cigarette before cupping her cheek with one hand and leaning in, pressing lips against hers. It’s not long before she opens her mouth and they’re on the verge of making out.

Clarke’s the one to pull away.

“That’s all you get, for now.”

He still gives her a quick kiss. “I’m here tomorrow at eight.”

“Deal.”

“You know what? I still think girls are too much work.”

“Well then, you could try guys.”

“If you don’t work out, I just might.”

And she kisses him again, and by that point, he’s forgotten all about cigarettes or stress or nervousness, and all he can think about are his fingers sliding underneath her shirt and feeling the warmth of his skin, and his lips on her neck while she lets out a quiet moan.

Yeah. He has a good feeling about this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you have ideas you'd like me to write, send them to me to @revienreies on tumblr.


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